Given the station difference between her and Daniel, it should come as no great shock that they’d invariably drifted apart. It was the way of their world. He belonged amongst the powerful peers who now danced within his ballroom. And she belonged on the sidelines, serving his sister, and then after Alice, hopefully other young ladies. Young ladies, who’d someday step out into this, or another ballroom and enter Polite Society.
Where Mrs. Belden’s had represented hope, the idea of her future without Daniel left her bereft.
As though she felt his eyes on her, Daniel had sought her out. Even with the stretch of the floor between them, his concern reached across the room. He frowned, a question in his gaze. She mustered a smile she did not feel for his benefit.
“There you are, Miss Smith.”
Daphne shrieked at the unexpected interruption, earning stares from the other companions seated beside her. “Alice,” she greeted and quickly grabbed for her cane, awkwardly shoving herself to her feet. She grimaced. With her fascination and distraction with her employer, mayhap Mrs. Belden had been correct after all, and Daphne would make a rotten companion.
Alice’s eyes twinkled with a knowing gleam that sent panic mounting. Surely she had not been so very obvious in her thoughts? “Come,” the girl said, looping her arm through Daphne’s. “Stroll with me.” Daphne adored the young lady for believing she could stroll anywhere. “I would have a moment away from the crush of guests.” They started toward one of the curtained alcoves off the corner of the ballroom. It did not escape her notice that Alice slowed her stride to accommodate Daphne’s uneven, awkward gait.
Self-absorbed in her own hungerings and fears, she’d not given proper thought to why her charge sought her out. “Is everything all right?” she asked, as Alice ushered her into the alcove and the curtains fluttered shut behind them.
The younger lady plopped onto one of the chairs set up against the wall and tugged her slippers off. “Oh, fine. Fine,” Alice waved her slipper about. “With the exception of some pinched toes.” A dreamy expression lit her eyes. “But I swear I feel no pain. We danced,” she said, layering her head against the wall. “Mr. Pratt and I danced,” she repeated. “He wishes to court me.”
A joyous smile hovered on Alice’s lips and at that tangible happiness, Daphne’s maudlin thoughts about Daniel from before briefly lifted. For so long, she had been bitter and broken in the loss of her own innocence. Seeing it alive in Alice now, didn’t fill her with fear or envy, but rather an equal happiness for what could be. She collected one of Alice’s hands and gave a light squeeze. “Listen to your heart and mind in equal measure. And be certain he is worthy of you.”
From outside the alcove, the orchestra’s quadrille came to a stop. Daphne looked to the front of the curtain. “We should return,” she said and made to stand.
Alice shot a hand out, staying her movements. “Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Smith?”
At the unexpected question, Daphne blinked slowly. The events were as infernal now as they’d been eleven years ago. “Quite,” she said belatedly.
Daniel’s sister snorted. “Quite tedious. But for my dance with Mr. Pratt, the whole affair has been boring,” she said, wiggling her feet back into her slippers. “And like my brother, you are a dreadful liar, Miss Smith.” At that likening to Daniel, Daphne’s cheeks warmed and she gave thanks for the dimly lit space. Her charge sent her a probing sideways glance. “No doubt that tedium is why Daniel became a rake.”
It was not Daphne’s place to explain that, at one time, he’d been an altogether different person and only after her brother and mother’s death had he slowly become a figure she no longer recognized. “Life changes us all,” she offered, instead.
“Do you know, Miss Smith?” her charge began, as casually as though they spoke of the weather and not intimate details about Daphne’s employer. “As a girl, I was often alone.” Her heart tugged. Daphne had mourned her own mother’s passing when she’d been a girl of thirteen. What had it been like for Alice to never know that special relationship? It should have been the Countess of Montfort beside her even now. “I never knew my mother and Daniel was…” She rolled her eyes. “You know, Daniel.” Yes, Daphne did very well know. “And my father…” Alice’s expression took on a distant quality. “My father didn’t know whether I was a servant or daughter.”
How grief had ravaged the Winterbournes. After their son’s passing, the once smiling, loving Earl and Countess of Montfort’s entire family had withdrawn from Society.
“I am sorry,” Daphne said softly.
Alice waved off that useless apology. “It allowed me much time to observe the world around me. He wasn’t always that way, was he, Miss Smith?”
Surely there was more Daniel’s sister cared to do than hover on the sidelines discussing her brother’s past? She opened her mouth to say as much, but caught the uncharacteristically solemn glint in Alice’s eyes and ended the flippant reply. “No. He wasn’t,” she said quietly. In fact, but for those three months in London where she’d witnessed hints of his wickedness, she’d only known him to be the loyal, laughing friend.
“What was he like?” Alice pressed.
Through the slight crack in the curtains, Daphne searched for a glimpse of him. Couples twirled by in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors, briefly parting to reveal Daniel. He remained engrossed in conversation with the Marquess of St. Albans and the lovely lady at his side. “He was clever,” she said, pulling her gaze away. He still is. “Competitive.” He’d raced her on land and lake and never let her win. “Funny.” He’d had her laughing until a stitch had formed in her side. Invariably, life dulled the purity of that joyous sound. “Heroic,” she said softly, more to herself, finding him once more.
Alice snorted. “Given his reputation and his absence these years, it’s hard to see Daniel as anything other than a rake, and certainly not a hero.”
There was, of course, merit to that well-deserved charge. Yet, time changed them all. Made a person into someone other than they’d been. In her case, it had seen her crippled. In Daniel’s, he’d become a wicked scoundrel. There was no excusing his transformation, but rather an acceptance to how life had ultimately marked them. Wanting Alice to at least know there had been a time when he’d been a different person, Daphne displayed her cane and then settled it on the floor. “Do you know how I was crippled, Alice?”
Her charge shook her head. Curiosity piqued in her expression. “I was racing through a copse,” chasing treasures. “It had been raining. I fell.” Her leg burned in remembrance of that long ago agony. Her voice was hoarse from screaming and crying, until she’d lain there and simply waited to die. Or be discovered. “I was there for hours, alone. Your brother found me. And he carried me the mile to my home.”
Alice’s lips parted in surprise and her eyes went soft. “All I ever knew were Daniel’s wicked pursuits and the scandalous gossip printed of him in the papers.” Of which there had undoubtedly been much. “But you see more in him, don’t you?”
…It allowed me much time to observe the world around me…
The determined light now filling Alice’s brown irises sent off the first warning bells. Daphne wetted her lips and glanced about.
Alice pounced. “I see the way you are with one another.” Daphne’s stomach sank to her toes and she gave her head a frantic shake. This is what the girl was about? What Lady Alice spoke of would mean the ruin of Daphne’s reputation as a companion. “How you look at one another. And I do believe, mayhap, Daniel could be one of those reformed rakes.”
Daphne fluttered a hand about her throat, skittering her gaze about. The girl was wrong. Except upon the pages of sweeping love stories and gothic tales, rakes and rogues could not be reformed.
“You do not need to say anything, Miss Smith,” Alice said, patting her hand. “I must return. I have another set coming with Mr. Pratt.” Then the girl stood and marched off, perfectly cool, after she’d yanked the rug out from under Daphne’s feet.<
br />
She closed her eyes and sank back in her seat. Her heart beat a double-time to the orchestra’s too slow strands of a waltz. She’d been so transparent that a seventeen-year-old girl had seen all. Seen, when Daphne herself had only just realized her love for Daniel. He was a man who beautiful ladies in daring gowns layered themselves against.
A vicious envy for the cloying beauty she’d spied earlier at his side took hold. Despite his sister’s naiveté about her brother, Daphne did not delude herself into thinking that any woman would truly matter to Daniel Winterbourne. When she left, his life would continue as it had for the past thirteen years, with countless women there to warm his bed. Her heart spasmed.
Enough.
Daniel did not factor into her future. Ladies of Hope did. A future with purpose did. By Society’s standards, a lady could not have both, nor was it a possibility with Daniel, anyway. Even if her heart wished it. Then, he was a gentleman who’d thumb his nose at Society and allow his wife to march scantily clad through Hyde Park if she so wished it.
Pushing to her feet, Daphne retrieved her cane and limped from the alcove. She made her way back to her chair. With each faltering, lurching footstep, her skin pricked with the stares leveled on her. She’d long become accustomed to those stares. Invariably, people were drawn to that which was different, including people, though not always in kind ways. She stumbled and caught herself with her cane.
Loud sniggering ensued at her back. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and challenged the stranger with her eyes. “Do hush,” a pretty blonde lady beside her scolded. “You should be kind to a lowly cripple.”
Time had proven, even those attempting kindness, offered pitying words. Say nothing. You are here not as a guest, but as a servant. She’d never been the obedient sort. “There are different manners of low,” she interjected softly. “The worst being those who fail to see the worth in all others, regardless of their handicap.”
The two young women gasped and then, with matching frowns for Daphne, stalked off.
“That was beautifully said,” an unexpected voice sounded softly from over her shoulder.
Daphne wheeled toward the owner of it, so quickly she stumbled once more. Her heart thumped hard. The Marchioness of Guilford. “My lady,” she greeted belatedly, sinking into a horrid curtsy.
How many others had waved off that effort on her part, to spare her the exertions? The lovely woman with her midnight curls and soft eyes merely smiled. “I often tell myself it is not Society’s fault that they speak without the proper words or respond in the right way.”
The lady spoke as one who knew. Which was an impossibility; flawlessly beautiful and elegant in her movements, she exuded ladylike perfection.
“It just means you try to teach them the right ones,” the marchioness said with a smile.
A young lady with golden curls rushed over, capturing the marchioness’ arm, commanding her notice. Daphne retreated, watching the other woman until she disappeared among the other guests.
She’d earlier thought that a woman could not have love and a purpose outside of the household, but had been incorrect. The Marchioness of Guilford was proof that a woman could have love, purpose, and family.
Daphne sought Daniel out again with her gaze. There would never be that complete dream, as long as Daniel failed to see more.
Chapter 16
The townhouse at last empty and quiet ringing in the halls, Daniel strolled through the corridors. In his hands he carried a bottle of brandy and glass.
By the terms set forth by his uncle, tonight had been a resounding success. He had rebuffed the advances of several eager widows. Widows who at any other time, he would have gladly entertained and buried himself between their welcoming thighs, as Polite Society carried on their proper events, just out of ear-shot.
His sister had danced every set. Those honorable gentlemen who’d partnered her, as dull as the plaster on his walls, men whom Daniel would never keep company.
There had been no scandals.
If all continued along this placid trajectory, Alice would be married off, he would be free—and Daphne gone. A pit formed in his belly.
Daniel paused and drew a long pull from the bottle, shaking his head with a grimace at the fiery trail it blazed. He reached the ballroom, the flower garland draped about the pillars now wilted and petals littered the floor like floral teardrops.
His gaze instantly found her, perched on the edge of the rise. Where she, of course, should be. How harmonious they’d been in thought as children and, now, even after the passage of time, those thoughts were the same still. Yet, how was a gentleman to act around a lady after she’d professed her love and he’d run like the Devil was nipping at his heels? “Miss Smith,” he called out, his quiet greeting echoed around the room.
“My lord,” she returned. It may as well have been last evening, when he’d lain her on that very surface and wrung cries of ecstasy from her full lips.
Strolling with bottle in hand, Daniel came forward. With a slower, deliberate stride, he allowed her time to stand and make a proper exit.
Instead, she fixed on his every movement, until he came to a stop beside her. Her eyes briefly went to his decanter. He braced for her stinging rejection of his company or her abrupt departure. Alas, this was Daphne—unlike any other woman he’d ever known. She ran guarded eyes over his person; lingering her stare on his chest. “You are missing some garments, my lord,” she drawled, the wariness in her gaze made a mockery of that casual tone.
He despised her being guarded. He preferred her as she’d always been—his friend. Just…the friend he now also wanted to take as his lover. Daniel hitched himself up onto the seat beside her and she scooted over, making space for him. “Bah, cravats are overrated.” He abandoned his bottle, setting it on the dais next to him. In this moment, he didn’t want to be soused or numbed. He just wanted to be with her, remembering what it was to laugh and tease.
A smile played on her lips and just like that, the easy calm they’d always enjoyed was restored. “I take it you are of like opinion on jackets and shoes?” She tipped her chin meaningfully at his white shirtsleeves and stockinged feet.
“Oh, certainly. Those, too.” He angled his mouth close to her ear. “And breeches.”
She snorted. “You’d have us walk around like Adam and Eve, in a veritable Garden of Eden, then.”
Her vivid words conjured a tantalizing vision, an image more tempting than the apple those first sinners had thrown away paradise for, of him and Daphne naked, twined in one another’s arms, with her hair cascading about them. It was a sin that she should tuck those strands away so tightly and leave him to wonder about their length and feel and—
Daphne shot him a questioning look. “Are you unable to sleep, Daniel?” she asked. A wave of desire went through him at how effortlessly she wrapped his name in her husky contralto.
“Sleep?” He yanked out his timepiece. “It’s entirely too early to be abed.”
“Daniel,” she chided, yanking the watch fob from his hand. She peered at the numbers. “It is nearly thirty minutes past four.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “As I said, entirely too early.”
She released the chain. Her startled laugh, clear and bell-like, pealed around the ballroom. A laugh wholly pure and unjaded like those false chuckles from the cynical women he bedded. He closed his eyes and breathed of her soft lilac scent, filling his lungs with it. And God, he would have traded all those other meaningless exchanges to have Daphne Smith under him right now. Her laughter subsided and she settled her palms behind her, leaning her slender weight back, away from him. The delicate planes of her face settled into a contemplative mask and with her distracted gaze trained on the mural overhead, he used it as an opportunity to study her.
He’d never given thought to what a woman was thinking. All that mattered was the feeling of mutual bliss that came in mindless sexual surrender. Meaningless couplings that, in a fraction of time, allowed a man t
o forget the emptiness that his life, in fact, was. The emptiness he’d allowed it to become. Here, beside Daphne, with her total lack of artifice, he wanted to know what she was thinking.
She turned slightly, looking at him. “What is it?”
“I want to know what you’re thinking.” What she was feeling? What caused the little glimmer of worry in her eyes, or made her nibble at her lower lip as she did now?
Daphne propelled herself upright. “And here I thought a rake didn’t much care about anything beyond his own self-interests and desires.” God, how in concert they’d always been.
“No,” he murmured. “Generally, they do not.”
She fell silent. For several moments, he expected she’d ignore his inquiry. “It will be nearly eleven years. Eleven years since I last attended a ball. Lord and Lady Ackerland’s and what a grand event it was. There were so many guests, a person could scarcely move.” Daphne trained her gaze on the pillar wrapped in ivory hydrangea and he hated that she saw in her mind’s eyes a time he’d never been part of.
Daniel drew his legs up and wrapped his arms loosely about his knees. “The night was memorable enough that you remember it so clear,” he murmured, desperate to bring her back to him and the present.
She grabbed her cane and tapped the marble floor in a broken rhythm. “A lady generally recalls the night she gave away her virtue.”
His body coiled tight and he had the feel of a serpent poised and eager to strike. A hungering for the name of the bastard who’d robbed her of that gift filled him. Lowering his feet to the floor, he opened his mouth to speak but caught her sad eyes. He’d long shied away from any in-depth conversations, preferring talks of wagers, whores, and disreputable events. By that, he should grab his bottle, climb to his feet, and run as far and as fast as his legs could carry him.
But she needed to speak of that long ago night. It was written in the beautiful freckled planes of her face. So he waited.
A Heart of a Duke Regency Collection : Volume 2--A Regency Bundle Page 94
